


It's My Party

by WebbedUpKatanas



Category: Deadpool (Comics), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Fluffy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-20
Updated: 2014-07-20
Packaged: 2018-02-09 17:19:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1991259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WebbedUpKatanas/pseuds/WebbedUpKatanas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An anon wanted Peter comforting a heavily crying Wade, and who am I to deny them that?</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's My Party

Aunt May’s surprise birthday party is actually going pretty well all things considered.

The cake finally showed up about ten minutes before guests started to arrive, Peter has managed to scrounge up some partially edible looking hors d’oeuvres, and as a bonus he even managed to wrestle Wade into a respectable suit with a properly tied, if flamboyant, Deadpool patterned tie. The fact that he’s convinced him to go without his mask or gloves is a small miracle in itself.

Aunt May had been the picture of surprise and grace, even though he’s pretty sure she knew he was planning this the whole time. Especially if she had anything to do with the frozen pre-made pastries he found in his freezer after her last visit.

Wade is currently stuffing as many of said pastries as he can into the pockets of his pants while he ogles a woman in a sparkling black dress who Peter can’t remember inviting. He frowns, both at the ogling and the way that the woman inches away with all the subtlety of an out of control brush fire.

But, as Wade slinks over to lean against the far wall, Peter thinks things could be going worse. In fact, Aunt May is laughing, and a few people are eating without being sick, and all in all he’d have to say the party is a success.

And then he hears it.

“Peter is such a nice boy isn’t he?”

“Yes, but what he’s doing with that monster I’ll never understand. He should find himself a pretty girl like that Mary Jane he’s always hanging around with.”

He’s ready to politely disengage and give the ladies from Aunt May’s bridge club a piece of his mind when he hears another voice, albeit a younger one, chime up over by the snack table. “Did you see him? I was gonna have a cookie but I’m scared I’ll barf if he gets any closer.”

Peter’s eyes immediately dart to Wade, who has been lurking in the half shadows at the corners of the room, hugging the wall while staying as close to Peter as he can all night. His body is tense, but he isn’t reaching for any weapons, so that’s good.

Now he’s torn as to who he should be telling off, caught between an older woman and a teenager, both of whom should know better. It’s possible Wade can’t hear them, in the same way that it’s possible that Weasel hadn’t hacked into his computer and shown Wade everything from his bank statements down to his browsing history. In other words, possible but highly unlikely. Especially since Wade has taken to quoting that one stranger porn video and singing backstreet boys songs at him (what, they’re a great band. They’re fun to web swing to, so there). But the downward dip of Wade’s head and the way he shifts further into the corner convinces him that he has heard.

“Yeah he looks like something my cat barfed up.”

“Yes you’re right, a boy like Peter needs a pretty girl, or at least a halfway handsome young man, not a freak.”

“Do you think he’s ever been laid with a face like that?”

“Nah, you’d have to be insane to touch that.”

The room goes silent when a fist smashes into the wall hard enough to crack the plaster.

Wade looks ferocious standing tense, and his body language screams of violence, for once looking every inch the killer he is. The older women jump, looking terrified, and the teenagers who bear the full brunt of his glare look like they may faint.

“Wade,” Peter calls out frantically, the warning clear in his voice although part of him, the part he likes to pretend doesn’t exist, is a little vindictively glad that Wade has scared them.

With a final snarl Wade turns and bolts from the room, leaving everyone stunned in his wake.

Peter gives the room at large one last glare and follows him, slamming the door behind him.

He half expects to hear Wade trashing things in a rage considering how livid he was, but his ears are met with only eerie silence as he makes his way through the house searching for him.

“Wade? Wade I’m sorry, don’t be pissed those people are… jerks,” the last word fades to a whisper when he enters the bedroom just in time to see Wade wiping his eyes furiously on his mask that he’s retrieved from the bedside table.

“S’fine Pete, I’m used to it,” he growls, tugging the damp mask back on to hide his face.

“Wade-” he feels out of his depth, and for a moment he can’t imagine what he can do to make this better. He’s seen Wade take a thousand comments about his face with either threats or self-deprecating humour. Some of those comments had even from Peter himself before they got together, although the panic in the other man’s eyes during the mamageddon episode when he’d ripped off his mask had been enough to make it clear that it cut pretty close. After that he had done his best to refrain, but now not even the cool removed facade of the Deadpool mask can hide the fact that he’s about two seconds away from shattering to pieces before his eyes.

By the time Peter’s brain kicks back in Wade looks like he’s ready to flee, his hands twitching down to where his guns are usually holstered reflexively as though he thinks he’s going to have to fight his way out of the room.

He barely remembers moving, but suddenly he’s right in front of Wade tugging him into his arms. He remains there stiff and unmoving as Peter holds him tight against his chest, seeming cold and detached as though he’s a million miles away.

“I’m sorry Wade,” he says into his ear, and the man finally sags in his arms and chokes out a sob against his shoulder.

Peter manoeuvres them over to the bed awkwardly. Wade refuses to let go of him for even a moment, and once the tears start it seems like he’ll never stop. Great gulping sobs wrack his body, and Peter has to tug his mask off for him as he can feel the wetness on his shoulder and knows it has to be uncomfortable.

He tries to make soothing sounds, cupping the back of his head in one hand as Wade shakes in his arms.

He already knows what works best to calm him down, having dealt with the night terrors that leave one or both of them screaming and weeping on any given night. But this time is different. More immediate, rather than wasted tears shed on ghosts long dead and regrets they can never hope to fix.

It’s hard to keep his own tears back as the mercenary chokes on his sobs, wailing loudly and hopelessly against him. He’s seen Wade kill without a thought and deal flawlessly with trauma no man should have to, and it’s beyond heartbreaking to see his carefully constructed exterior crumble to dust.

“Wade, you know I don’t care about your scars,” he tries, but his words just trigger an increase in the volume of an inhuman wailing sound followed by great hiccoughs that make him thrash against Peter’s hold.

He holds Wade tighter, stroking him and whispering reassurances against his skin, telling him he’s wanted and needed and loved . By the time Wade’s wretched sobbing has calmed to mere tears Peter feels like he’s been scrubbed from inside by steel wire. Hollow and empty and helpless in the face of Wade’s breakdown.

“This never happened,” Wade tells him sternly, sniffling a bit as he shifts away and wipes his face off against his arm.

Peter very nearly takes the out. It’d be easy to brush this off, but the sight of Wade looking so fragile and helpless as he tries to pull himself together convinces him to push the issue. “Wade we have to talk about this.”

“What’s there to talk about? I didn’t make prom queen, had my cry and now I’m going to go home and watch soap operas and eat ice cream,” Wade says defensively, trying to pry himself from Peter’s arms.

Instead of letting him go Peter pulls him tighter and kisses him, trying to convey the words Wade doesn’t want to hear through his lips alone. It’s Wade who eventually deepens the kiss, slipping his tongue into Peter’s mouth and moaning softly as Peter squeezes him closer.

“I’m sorry for ruining your aunts party,” Wade mutters when they part, even with their foreheads pressed together his voice is so quiet Peter almost thinks he imagined him speaking.

“You haven’t ruined anything,” they both look up to see Peter’s aunt standing in the doorway watching them fondly. “Besides maybe that one brats pants,” she adds with a chuckle.

“Anyone who wasn’t willing to be polite in Peter’s house has been kindly asked to leave. Would you boys like to come rejoin the party? I’ve ordered us some Chinese food, not that the hors d’oeuvres weren’t lovely Peter,” she adds with a smile.

“Be out in a minute,” Peter replies, turning back to Wade as May wanders back to the guests.

“Your aunt is a badass. Did I tell you she was checking out my guns before? And not these ones,” Wade flexes, and the show is actually impressive, much to Peter’s chagrin.

“If my aunt was checking you out we’d have a whole different set of problems to deal with,” Peter laughs. He kisses Wade again, letting the other man pull him back in and deepen the kiss until they are making out like teenagers on the bed.

“Your scars don’t bother me. You didn’t ruin the party. I’m proud of you for not beating those idiots into a bloody pulp,” Peter tells him between kisses. Wade just hums in response, brushing Peter’s sides lightly with his hands.

By the time they finally break apart Peter’s hand is shoved up under Wade’s shirt and they are both breathing quite a bit more heavily than they were a few minutes before.

“Do we have to go back?” Wade whines, although his reluctance appears to stem entirely from the fact that he’d rather push Peter down on the bed and straddle him right now and not from fear of rejection if he returns.

“If we don’t go aunt May is going to come back in here to find us,” Peter groans.

“I may be an exhibitionist but that’s just going too far,” Wade nods, pulling away reluctantly. Straightening his wrinkled suit he holds his mask thoughtfully before throwing it down on the bed. Peter has to bite down on his lip to keep from smiling.

They both exit the bedroom, with Wade hanging back just the tiniest bit and allowing Peter to lead him.

“Oh Peter, before I forget…those hors d’oeuvres were disgusting,” Wade says with a cheeky grin, sauntering back into the party with renewed confidence.

Peter just shakes his head, glad to have gotten through that with minimal damage. It’s good to have Wade back to himself again, even if it means dealing with the strange turn of events when he suggests a rousing game of strip poker.

There are some sights, Peter thinks sadly, that you can never unsee. His aunt and her husband dirty dancing in their undergarments is definitely one of those things.

Luckily for him Wade promises to help him forget once the rest of guests have left. He plans to hold him to that promise, and to make him writhe and moan and sing his name as he strums Wade’s scarred body to orgasm. And if Wade notices that he’s kissing every phantom tear track down his face, Peter will make sure he’s too overwhelmed with pleasure to comment.


End file.
